All language subtitles for Spartacus.S03E09.The.Dead.and.the.Dying.480p.HDTV.x264-SM

You would have us march
to our end?

I would have us free.

With or without you

I shall march upon Rome.

You were slave
to Marcus Crassus himself?

I was.

Why would she risk all

to fly from loving arms?

Tomorrow we move
for Rome with Crixus.

Yet I would have
you take with Spartacus.

My place is forever with you.

Not in this.

The whore Canthara tells
of how she saw you come

from Kore's tent.

Game is over boy.

Take it like a woman.

Rome at last
lies within our grasp!

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Sync & corrections by honeybunny

One fucking hare between us?

Lower voice.

I do not tremble
in the dark

as frightened child,

Carry torch forward!

Time next, you carry bow.

Too far from fucking blood.

Strip them of weapons and armor

and what supplies
they yet carry.

These men travel
from the north.

What purpose would
Crassus have there?

Those who follow him are
known by mark of the bull.

These are not his men.

The Eagle and the Dolphin.

I have laid eyes
upon crest before.

The mark of Gnaeus
Pompeius Magnus.

Pompey?

A master of both land and sea.

My husband spoke with deep
admiration of the man.

Bending tongue to welcome him

as Rome's greatest
warrior--

I have heard tale
of his conquests.

And name of Adolescent
Butcher given him.

We shall butcher bird and fish!

I thought Pompey
mired in Hispania

against the renegade Sertorius.

His absence the reason Crassus
took arms against us.

If Pompey's scouts
return to the Republic,

as night follows day,

the man and his legions
will trail their shadow.

Spartacus.

A rider approaches.

This may hold but distraction!

Give voice if eyes fall
upon movement upon flanks!

They wear cloak
of the fucking legion.

That is no Roman.

Drink.

Do not waste such on the dead.

You yet live.

I a but pale shade,

haunting a world fallen
from meaning.

Then we must nourish specter,

so that it may reclaim flesh

and promise of better days.

There stand none upon horizon.

Was his end as
he had always dreamed?

In glorious battle?

In battle, yes.

Though robbed of glory.

Tell of it.

That we may share
in the burden of grief.

The days after we parted were
filled with victory.

The blood of our enemies
turning fields

to crimson mud,
thick with the dead.

Rome lay within our grasp.

Only to have it snatched
from us by Crassus

and his legions.

It was the man himself

that robbed Crixus' life?

Crixus!

Crixus was engaged
by the traitor Caesar.

When boy of scant years

pierced back with spear.

A fucking boy.

What o Agron?

Does he share fate with Crixus?

Or is he yet of this world?

There is but single reason

Crassus spare my life.

To taunt Spartacus
with vision of his end.

Crassus tempts
to goad you

into foolish action.

If I stood only
for my own life,

perhaps I would stand so moved.

Yet we must turn
from such thoughts,

and set purpose towards
more pressing concern.

Pompey.

His scouts were headed south,
towards Crassus' legions.

He will send more,
when they do not return.

We cannot afford to be caught
between two armies,

fighting as one.

No. We cannot.

None among the Gaul's men
form words of note?

We have set lash
and heated iron

towards the loosening
of tongues.

I shall press until one
unmoors from stubborn tether.

Or command all torn
from rebellious root.

I have time nor
patience to pause

for such distraction.

Give word to break encampment

as Apollo approaches
eastern sky.

I would quicken pace.

There is a matter
of some small concern

within the followers' camp.

A whore
by the name of Canthara,

discovered beaten
and slitas pig

from womanhood to throat.

Canthara? What do you
know of this, Caesar?

News only now falls upon ear.

I have been seeking the woman
for several days.

Whoever she angered, his wrath
is a thing to be feared.

Followers' camp
is but brief step

from our very ranks.

I would not have it
fall to chaos and murder.

I shall personally
attend to matter.

May those responsible
suffer equal fate.

Imperator.

Two soldiers approach
on horseback,

bearing crest of Pompey.

The butcher at
last reveals himself.

See them to my praetorium.

Proconsul Gnaeu
Pompeius Magnus...

...offers support in campaign

against the rebel Spartacus.

Offer greeted with
wondrous surprise.

I've never known Pompey

to support any cause
but his own interests.

Apologies.

I but carry message.

Hmmm, see remainder fall
from tongue.

Pompey requests meeting.

Why does he not appear
before us himself,

if taken by such desire?

Because he does
not stand the fool.

Does he?

I will not risk journey.

Nor will I break from
my charge to bow and scrap

before imagined titan.

Pompey seeks
but neutral ground.

Twenty men attending him,
to be met in kind.

I will consider terms.

See them to food and wine.

Imperator.

You cannot seriously be
turning offer upon mind?

Pompey but seeks your
knowledge of Spartacus

so that he may snatch victory
from deserving hands.

Caesar, you agree, do you not?

I share your concerns.

Yet Pompey returns the hero
against Sertorius,

ripe with laurels.

To refuse offer would be
considered insult.

One that could be set against
you within the Senate.

To shit with the Senate.

There is practical
reason as well

to accept terms.

We could press attack
from the south,

Pompey could stay Spartacus

from gaining the mountains
and slipping from grasp.

With all who follow him.

A thing I would not see
come to pass.

Father, you cannot go.

It would appear
Pompey commands you.

Again, I share concern.

You should give no impression
that you are beneath him.

Instead send honored
name in your place

to broach negotiation.

And I suppose such name holds
letters forming "Caesar"?

No. Only
the Imperator's Word

and Will holds such
lofty position.

Pompey stands shrewd opponent.

I would have one
of more seasoned years

to set against him.

Tiberius has proven himself
worthy advisory.

His youth will but cause
Pompey to lower his guard,

to deepest regret.

Caesar at last breaks words
that I am moved to embrace.

We shall pause advance
until your return.

Weigh Pompey's true intent yet
give upon no issue.

I shall stand as my father,

unforgiving in command.

Was it so short a span,
when he stood uncertain boy?

Such days have
faded from memory.

He stands a man now.

And I wish for him
all that he deserves.

You were slave
to Marcus Crassus?

The one that slipped
from him upon Melia Ridge?

I have heard rumor.

That he was of a favor
towards you.

There stood such a time.

Then you were of a
closeness to him.

Before you fled.

I shared his tent that night.

I took knife and slipped from
presence while he slept.

Why did you not
seize opportunity?

And end his life?

If Crassus had
fallen that night,

Then Crixus would
yet be of this world.

I am moved by your loss.

Yet I cannot be held for it.

We are all held
for our actions.

The choices we make.

The things that we do.

And those that we should have.

We cannot reverse the sun.

Nor relive days past.

No. We can but brace
against uncertain future.

And when moment presents,

balance scale against those

who have most deeply
wounded heart.

Inform Pompey of my arrival.

Stay at my side.

If the man makes but slightest
move, unleash sword.

Let us break words
with your commander.

And divine his intent.

He stands most eager
to greet you.

Honored Pompey.
My father sends regret

that he could not --

The regret is mine.

I had hoped to embrace
the Imperator himself.

Yet fate delivers mere shadow
of the name Crassus.

Is this the blade?

The one that robbed
Crixus of his life?

See the boy's men bound
and readied for march.

Get up!

You would keep them alive?

I would see them give
honor to the dead.

In advance of
joining their ranks.

You will have no need of that.

I had no hand
in Canthara's fate.

The one who commanded
her so rudely from this world

will never again cause harm.

You know the animal
that took her life?

A bleating sheep
who mistook himself

as fearsome wolf.

Maneuvered towards
deserved slaughter.

I would give all
to lay eyes upon

his suffering.

Let us take comfort
in thoughts of blood.

And the warmth of flesh,
yet among the living...

What of Crassus?

Plan to lure him to his
doom falls short of mark.

Stay your hand!

I would not have the boy and his
men fall to errant wrath!

Their blood is to serve
higher purpose!

Games?

To honor the fallen.

And give comfort to those
left in death's wake.

I have seen this before.

In Crixus' hands. And the boy's
upon field of battle as it...

His name is Tiberius.
He is the son of Marcus Crassus.

He stands prisoner with
a clutch of his soldiers.

I will have his fucking life.

The reason he yet clings to it.

Let us build pyre and gather
around imagined sands

of storied arena.

To bear solemn witness to
the clash of sword and shield.

And pay final tribute
to the Undefeated Gaul.

Who shall forever stand
so in my eyes.

There was a time not along
ago when he turned from you.

A thing I moved him towards.

The past is seldom
as we would have it.

The future yet to be known.

Embrace the present,

and strike all
else from concern.

Let us have your games.

Each drop of Roman
blood spilled in honor

of those taken from us.

Die Roman dog!

I know this one.

Agron. From the lands
east of the Rhine.

A savage people,
holding no trust

even among their own kind.

This one is of a difference.

A gladiator standing
beside Spartacus

in valued position,

the Celt Gannicus
and the fallen Gaul

his only equals.

Has he given voice?

Only to rude curse, Imperator.

There is yet more upon tongue,

you fucking cunts...

More dead than living,

yet still conjures
breath toward insult.

I would care to
own gladiators such as this,

and turn hard men toward harder
purpose.

As I would see
this one softened.

Nail him to cross...

...stand warning
to all who refuse

to break proper word.

I shall yet... have
your fucking head.

An impressive feat,

For one who will never
again grasp sword...

Would that all
who follow Spartacus

shared like fate.

Imperator.

An envoy from Pompey
has arrived.

What of Tiberius?

He does not stand among them.

Imperator Crassus.

I carry message
from Proconsul Pompeius--

Where is my son?

Your son...?

Dispatched with two
of your reflection

to break word with
your commander.

Apologies,
I know nothing of your son,

nor others sent to you
in my place.

I am sole envoy--

They stood before me bearing
fucking mark of Pompey!

Other messengers
were dispatched.

Yet not to you.

Have any failed to report?

A clutch of men, heading
south towards Latium.

Leave us.

They were Spartacus' men,
posing as Pompey's.

You can not know this --

You should have! You stood
among the rebels in Sinuessa!

There were thousands
within the city.

Fortune would be most kind
for me to know

the one that presented himself.

Gods rain shit upon us.

Yet is it not blessing,
that they stayed you

from being ensnared
in clever plot?

If the Imperator were
to fall to Spartacus --

We do not know that
Tiberius has fallen.

He carries the name of Crassus.

And with him the worth
of the world towards bargain.

You believe him alive?

As any father would,

absent eyes laid upon
lifeless form.

Then we must pray
towards proper outcome,

and wait for Spartacus
to return--

I will not stand idle
while my son's life

dangles by fraying thread.

We know which direction
Spartacus heads.

A few men fleet upon horse
could overtake him

and broach trade.

Spartacus will kill
you upon sight,

regardless of cost.

I shall set Rufus towards task.

I would place trust in someone

with greater knowledge
of Spartacus and his horde.

Someone who's lived among them,

and knows of their
treacherous ways.

You would send me to my death.

They will not lay hand
upon you.

We hold something I'm certain
Spartacus desires.

And if you are in error?

Then I shall mourn your passing
as well.

Fucking shits.

I hold share of blame.

I latched upon bait lured with
praise and paternal pride.

He must have known they
stood Spartacus' men,

draped in false mantle.

Do not raise weapon
when called upon.

We will not give
entertainment in our deaths.

Remember that we are Romans,

and they nothing but slaves.

Yet you are the one in chains.

A heavy thing, is it not?

To be so condemned
to the whims of a master?

You were never
placed in chains.

You forged them
with your own hands.

Each unseen link binding heart

forcing me from the arms
of your father.

See me from these chains,

and I shall return you to them.

His heart still beats
for you, Kore.

Despite all that has happened.

He still hold love for me?

And would move
the heavens to regain you.

I have not dared to hope
such a thing.

Gratitude.

Know that I shall
return at night fall.

When it is your time to die.

A thing I long
to lay eyes upon.

It's been a lifetime
since I last stood gladiator.

Title and purpose
I never desired.

Rome forced such upon me
and many of my brothers.

And this night...

we shall return favor!

Let us show the son
of Crassus and his men

what we have learned
beneath the heel

of their mighty Republic.

And in such lesson,

honor the dead

with Roman blood!

I would know
what challenge you present.

Absent legions to give aid,

as they did against
Crixus and Agron.

Begin!

I am a Roman!

I will not fight for your
fucking entertainment --

You will fight,
or fall where you stand!

If a single Roman lacks
courage enough to face me...

send two to brace nerve!

I have never laid eyes
upon the games.

They are but dim reflection
of their glory.

You speak as if heart
yearns for such days.

To return to shackle
and lash, no.

To stand upon
the sands again...

To know a clear
purpose of who you

are and what must be done...

That is a thing that calls
to all of my kind.

I would have more blood,

to honor my brother Crixus

and all who have followed him
to the afterlife!

Gannicus!

Take position!

Two Romans seem to
deliver no contest!

Send three, so that I may
deliver proper tribute!

Gannicus seeks to best you?

Gladiators seek to best all.

It is the only way
to survive in the arena.

Gannicus stands
the only among us

to win his freedom
upon the sands.

If free, why does he raise
arms with the slaves

against the Republic?

He took up cause
to honor a fallen brother.

One that taught us
the ways of battle

and the bond that joins
all men in such pursuit.

It holds difficulty?

To see one of your people fall?

They no longer stand as such.

I have been cast
from the Republic,

thought towards loss
or suffering.

I may flinch from gory sight...

...yet know that I revel
in its meaning.

Would that you stood
a thousand men.

Your deaths by my hand worthy
of Agron's memory.

You stand prepared
for final contest?

Crixus once boasted
of his prowess as a gladiator,

in first words he ever
broke with me.

I said I did not favor
the games...

Now they are
all that I long for.

You're certain that's him?

Do not lower guard.

Who do you speak of?

One I long to greet.

I offer fair trade!
Five hundred of your men

taken in battle against Crixus
for Tiberius' life --

Hold!

I would hear of this--

He lives then?

The boy?

Perhaps. For yet a moment.

Tell me you do not fall prey
to this viper's tongue?

The words they form
are not my own.

Do not think me
the fool to greet you

with willful fucking intent.

Crassus would offer
such a bargain?

He would offer Jupiter's
throne in return

for festering disease that
sprung from noble loins.

He but attempts to draw
us into another plot

turning upon itself.

He attempts nothing!

The man is of singular mind.

One I do not fucking share,

Five hundred?

Take my life as
I know you desire...

And end theirs as well.

Fuck the gods.

You honored Agron well.

As you shall honor Crixus.

For you!

I would have my sword
returned to me, slave.

You claim the sword
as your own?

The way it fits hand,

I thought it forged for
woman or sickly child.

Do you yet consider me
sickly child?

I find you more than expected.

Gratitude. I held worries
you would die to quickly.

I will have your life...

As I took
the fucking Gaul's --

I would see blade
returned to you now.

Naevia!

Take pause.

Crassus offers trade!

His son's life for five hundred

captured in battle with Crixus!

Another Roman lie!

I do not believe it so.

Yet I lay choice with the one
most wronged by the boy.

I held your life in my hands.

Live each moment
knowing that one day soon

I shall reclaim it.

Kill them!
Fucking kill him!

Fucking kill him!

Delivered into hands,
as agreed upon.

I would break words.

He has been too long
from embrace.

It lifts heart.
To see you yet of this world.

Do not ply me
with silver tongue.

You knew them
to be Spartacus' men,

under guise of Pompey's.

A bold claim.

Well one my father will
surely take interest in.

The journey to return you to his
arms is fraught with peril.

For one needing to be
taught severest lesson

in who towers above you...

No!

You mad bitch.
Do you know what you have done?

I have balanced fucking scale.

Five hundred of our people
will suffer for this.

The boy holds no value now.

Nor does life of Caesar.

Wait! Crassus will
yet honor trade!

If you give him something
else his heart desires.

He was struck down
by hand of rebel slave,

as we attempted to withdraw
from Spartacus' camp.

A man long of years,
the scars of his master

etched deep upon flesh.

And yet you held
to fucking bargain?

I knew wound
such loss would cause.

I sought only to balm it with
opportunity presented...

Gratitude, Gaius.

You now stand
my Word and my Will.

You honor me.

Prepare the men for march.

I would press towards Spartacus

and see him to deserved end.

Imperator.

Raise eyes.

Marcus--

From this day forth...
you shall address me as Dominus.

Would that those we held
to heart stood among them.

Nasir...

The gods return you to my arms.

I was fool to ever leave them.

This night hearts lift
in joyous reunion

with those thought lost to us.

Fathers.

Brothers and sisters.

Sons and lovers.

Hold them close for
the shadow of Rome is upon us.

We hall seek our
destiny together.

Whatever the cost.

Yet let us not pass from memory

those left
absent from our arms.

Those who sacrificed
their lives

so that all may live free.

For Crixus!

For Sura.

For Varro and Mira!

For Oenomaus!

For Diotimus!

For Rhaskos.

For Sanus!

Donar!

For Duro!

For Aca.

Fortis!

Varca!

Nemetes!

Liscus!

For Crixus!
Crixus! Crixus...

Split heavens
with the sound of his name!

Let it carry
to Crassus and Pompey

as distant thunder promising
storm and blood!

All those who are able

shall make final
stand against Rome.

And this I promise you.

We will live free...

or join our brothers in death!

Sync & corrections by honeybunny

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